by Tom Hansen
They were an imposing bunch, and the morning sun glinted brilliantly off their helmets, adding to the sea of red that dominated the Eternal Plain’s landscape.
The guards all held halberds in one hand and had a short sword at their belt. Most of them also either slung a bow across their chests or had a leather sheaths allowing two daggers to be easily retrieved at the small of their backs. The soldiers were a formidable deterrent from attacks, especially while guarding their capital city.
He saluted. “My name is Matuk Scarhoof brother. I come with a missive from Eldermother in Sunset Cove for Chieftain Bloodhorn.”
The guard relayed the information down the tower and a number of seconds later, the door opened to allow him entry.
Two burly bulls pushed out of the door, surrounding him, followed by a smaller bull in a robe who took the missive from him, frowning at the seal.
“Very well, but Chieftain is quite busy, you will have to register at the Law-house and wait your turn.”
“Even this early in the morning? I ran all night long to arrive first thing, so I may see him.”
The guards shrugged. “I just know he’s very busy, now on with ya.”
Scarhoof walked through the tower and into his old city of Whistling Pass.
The town was similar to how he remembered it. Roads led like spokes from the towers to the center of the city, where a large nine-sided structure stood; the original meeting house having been erected to contain the massive yearly bonfire. Those walls had become the base for the structure, once the tribes were united under Gaagii Bloodhorn upon the start of the war with the Nagos.
Twenty years had not been good to the city. Most buildings barely held together. All around him, Tau’raj milled about, the look in their faces one of sullen despair. They looked like they hadn’t bathed in ages, and the stench of Tau’raj waste burned at his nostrils.
It was all slums. He occasionally heard an infant braying in the distance, but most of it was coughing of the old and infirm.
He stood for a long while, trying to comprehend just how much had changed since he had left two decades ago.
The entire Sunset Cove was supposed to be designated as a sanctuary for those that could no longer fight, but it seemed that too many were staying here.
Perhaps the two-day trek across barren terrain was too much for them. Perhaps there was no point.
Long-forgotten emotions threatened to break free. He’d spent so long in the relative safety of Sunset Cove that he hadn’t seen the toll two decades had on the rest of his race. They all lived in poverty, barely able to survive. Their homes a patchwork of repairs. Yet beneath all the grime and dirt, a spark of hope was apparent in their eyes.
As he limped past the rows of huts, the occasional bull or cow would stop and watch him, the look on their faces a mixture of curiosity and concern. He realized he wore a uniform they hadn’t seen in a lifetime, and despite his limp, he’d been well fed compared to many of the emaciated masses that called Whistling Pass home.
It was all he could do to not meet anyone’s gaze and focus on his quest.
Presently, he arrived at the imposing center structure and was lazily eyed by a clerk with two guards standing to either side of the door.
“Dropping off or picking up?” She asked.
Scarhoof didn’t quite know how to respond. “I bring a delivery from the Eldermother—”
“So, dropping off, please fill out the paperwork and leave it with the desk over there.” The Tau’raj had an irritated high-pitched voice and a distinct lisp. She looked like someone who was constantly annoyed by people below her station.
“I’m sorry, but I was told to hand this to him myself.”
The clerk started chuckling, her nasally laugh devolving into a snort that drew the attention of a few standing in what seemed to be a line.
She pointed. “These folks have been waiting all night for an audience with the Chieftain, do you really wish to stand around for two days to see him? If you’ll just fill out the paperwork we will have someone summarize it for him.”
Scarhoof looked at the line. Many dozens of Tau’raj stood idly in between ropes strung between wooden posts. The line wound around like a snake before disappearing into a doorway in the back.
He debated just leaving the missive with the clerk and returning, to ensure that the Cove was protected. Echoes of Spiritmother, Nitene and Eldermother all pushing him to leave reverberated through his head. He didn’t want to disappoint any of them, but their insistence weighed heavily on his mind.
“I will wait. Eldermother was adamant that I give it to him directly. I am here to be a voice for the refugees in the Cove, and to convey and request additional soldiers to help guard its borders.”
The clerk rolled her eyes. “To each their own. Have fun waiting. Next!”
The guards gave him a stare and he shuffled along to the back of the line, wishing he had stopped for something to eat first.
Despite the large crowd, the line moved faster than he thought. The largest problem was the lack of any food or water for him to consume, and as the sun began to set in the west, his damaged leg was screaming in agony.
He had once tried to heal himself, but the guards were on him so fast, throwing him to the ground that he wasn’t able to get off the first two syllables before having the wind knocked out of him.
“No unauthorized casting around Chieftain’s Circle.”
After a round of apologies, he was let up to continue his vigil.
Finally, he was to the door and through it. Ten more Tau’raj to go. He could finally see the Chieftain.
The years had not been kind to him. Gaagii Bloodhorn had been in his thirties when he first united the clans. His once thick and lustrous mane was shorter now, trimmed and greying. His booming voice had lost a bit of its volume but Scarhoof had never forgotten the hearty laugh and easy demeanor of the Chieftain.
He sat on a raised dais overlooking the dirt-covered floor where Tau’raj plead their cases. Behind and to the sides of the Chieftain sat a handful of dignitaries, officers in the army, and various aides busy scribbling down the words used in all the proceedings.
Over his scale armor, Gaagii wore a maroon velvet robe, a sign of his station, and sat behind a sturdy wooden desk covered in intricate carvings. Atop the desk were an assortment of papers, a large wooden hammer that he struck on the desk when a case had been concluded, and a pedestal that held something of such immense Spiritual power that Scarhoof felt it the second he rounded the doorway.
It was a shard. A rounded glass tube covered the object, keeping prying hands from touching its magic structure.
The other wall was covered with a map of Eloria, all three continents clearly labeled, as well as lines crisscrossing the land segmenting off the various states and zones from one another.
The room was somewhat circular except for an edge cut off for the administration offices. The center of the room contained a single wooden podium.
A handful of benches were scattered behind the podium. Occasionally someone from the audience would get up and leave or shuffle around. They seemed to be simply observers, sometimes the spouse or children of the supplicant.
Five more to go.
One Tau’raj requested leniency on their taxes due to a drought and inability to harvest enough.
Yet another was a scout from the south needing to relay information about troop movements along the Madcap Marsh border.
An older couple with their little one in tow pleaded to allow their young one be sent to Sunset Cove. It was all Scarhoof could do not to yell out that he had just been from there, that they would welcome them with open arms.
Suddenly the vast numbers of infirm in the town proper made sense. You had to apply to go to Sunset Cove. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that, after seeing such poverty and strife among his race, but that many would overwhelm the Cove’s ability to sustain its smaller population.
All requests were listened to, discussed
among his council, and announced by Bloodhorn himself.
Scarhoof remembered the newly crowned Chieftain out doing morning exercises along with the rest of the troops contingents. He’d always been like that, as long as he could remember. There was a reason the vote had been near-unanimous.
With two more Tau’raj in front of him, Bloodhorn stood, followed by the rest of his council.
“What’s going on?”
The Tau’raj in front of him turned and eyed Scarhoof. “Its closing time. He’ll see us tomorrow morning, if you can wait that long.”
Scarhoof’s blood boiled at this injustice and was unable to contain his frustration when he opened his mouth.
“I’ve been waiting all day for this! Where will we sleep? What will we eat?”
The Tau’raj in front of him took a step back. “Listen, I don’t make the rules, I just—”
“No!” Scarhoof stamped, drawing the attention of about half the room. “This is uncalled for. I am here on official business and I must see the Chieftain right now!”
His outburst caused two guards stationed by the Chieftain’s dais to narrow their vision on him, and the one closest to him began walking over. He carried a sharpened copper pike held at an angle in front of him.
“What is this outburst?”
Scarhoof stood as tall as he could, eyeing the guard with a determined look.
“I am here on a vital mission of intelligence from the Eldermother at Sunset Cove. I have travelled for two days and stood in this slow line for the last nine hours. I cannot wait until morning!”
The guard narrowed his eyes at Scarhoof, then turned back toward the dais, where a few of the dignitaries had started exiting through a door in the back, just to the side of the large map.
The other guard shook his head.
“I’m sorry, but they are done for the night. You will have to wait here until the morning. Will that be a problem?”
Dejected, Scarhoof shook his head. “No, it won’t be.”
The guard huffed, then spun around to march back to his post.
Scarhoof watched the sundry Tau’raj collect their papers and writing utensils into bins, bags, and slings and begin filing out of the spacious room. His gaze fell on the Chieftain, who had watched the exchange with a look of concern on his aged face.
No. This simply couldn’t wait. He’d been gone too long. He had left Sunset Cove unprotected for days. Even sprinting as fast as he could after leaving mid-morning tomorrow it would be two more full days before he was back, leaving the place unguarded for nearly five consecutive days.
He stared at the backs of the Tau’raj leaving the dais, going back to their homes for the night while he sat on the ground and waited. He hadn’t eaten in so long. His stomach churned at the thought of losing his spot.
The emanating hum of the shard under the glass called to him. His legs yearned to step over the barrier and grab it, adding it to his growing collection.
No. That was wrong. He shoved the thought back in his head, but soon found himself worrying about the caravan.
He had no way of knowing if the caravan had even found their destination, and with the Nagos tailing them to try to find the entrance … no, the danger was too great.
Panic crept through his mind, sowing seeds of doubt and fanning the flames of fear until they caught like the barn back home.
A wracking shudder across his shoulders showed just how tense he was with worry over the whole situation. He had left them vulnerable, unguarded. He needed to get back.
“No! It simply cannot wait! I will not stand here another moment longer while the Chieftain goes for the evening, leaving our most vulnerable are left unprotected!”
Nearly everyone in the room stopped their movements and slowly turned toward Scarhoof.
He realized then what he had said had not been in his head.
The guard who had just left him stared at him incredulously, like he was just about to go home and now he had to deal with an unruly individual. The other guard whirled around and drew a sword from a scabbard on his belt.
Uh oh.
He’d done it now. Not only was he not going to see the Chieftain, he might spend the night in jail. His mind raced on how to diffuse the situation.
He took a step to the side.
“Stay right there,” one of the guards shouted.
He glanced at the shard on the desk, thinking about the power it contained, and he remembered touching the shard a couple days ago with Nitene. No one here could touch it.
But he could!
He reached into his satchel, grabbing the smaller of the shards. He felt the surge of power shoot up his arm and into his chest, filling him with righteous fury. The buff appeared in the corner and power washed over him.
“No! This cannot wait!”
He leapt over the barrier separating the line from the rest of the room and ran straight at the dais.
The guard who had been approaching stopped and took a step back as he passed him.
Reaching the main desk, he locked eyes with the Chieftain, who stood a not far away, his eyes wide with surprise and wariness.
He wished he knew what he was going to do, too.
“Chieftain, will you listen to me if I can do this?”
He reached out, grabbing the glass container, and smashed it underneath his hands, then, blood pouring out of his hand, grabbed the shard beneath and held it high into the air.
Warm blood dripped down his arm, but he hadn’t felt the pain of his choice yet. Still surging from the power of the previous shard, his gaze locked with that of his Chieftain.
He reached into the satchel withdrawing the smaller Yantra-protected shard, and dropped it unceremoniously on the Chieftain’s desk, then pulled out the other one from the satchel, holding both larger shards high in the air.
His stared at his Chieftain, who’s face had gone from concern, to shock, and now to horror.
No one in the room moved, in fact he wasn’t sure if anyone but him was breathing.
The pain from the shattered glass finally hit him but bolstered by the power of the shard flowing through his body, he pushed it away.
“Chieftain, I come from Sunset Cove, where Nagos have infiltrated our defenses, killing most of the guards, and enslaved the Kobolds to try to get the once-peaceful creatures to attack the village.
“Eldermother herself sent me across the Plains despite my damaged leg because I was the most able to travel. I gladly accepted the responsibility, but I worry because the Cove is currently unguarded. I killed a group of Nagos who were only a few hours distance to the Cove on my way here.
“I am not here to ask you to lower my taxes, nor am I here to ask for food, or anything else for my sake. I am here for the most vulnerable among us living in Sunset Cove.”
He felt the rage inside his head swirling, and he fought the desire to stamp the ground in a show of force. He wasn’t here to challenge. He was here to seek aid.
He took a long breath, the room deadly silent around him.
“Will you listen to me, Chieftain?”
Chapter 20
The room was deadly silent. All eyes were either on Scarhoof, or on the Chieftain. In the distance, a book fell from someone’s hand, making it sound like a crack of lightning when it hit the desk.
The shards in his hands pulsed magical energy into his chest, making it feel like Scarhoof’s heartbeat synced with the pulse of the shards. Spiritual energy surged back and forth, making him tremble involuntarily, like a wagon with one off-kilter wheel.
For a long, tense second, both bulls sized one another up until the Chieftain’s mouth broke into a large, white smile.
“I’ll do you one better, soldier. I’ll invite you to dinner." Bloodhorn reached down to the ground where the long handle of his warhammer waited. He hoisted the massive hammer to his shoulder and dropped it into a harness on his back.
The tension in the room dissipated immediately at that comment. Soldiers who were in the
process of drawing their weapons sheathed them and turned their backs on the ruckus that had just enthralled everyone’s attention.
Clerks finished gathering their papers and shuffled out in an orderly and casual manner; just another normal day at the office.
Scarhoof glanced around, trying to make sense of it. How had everyone gone back to normality when his heart was pounding in his chest from the stress of it all?
He had risked not only himself but the safety of Sunset Cove on this ridiculous display of pride. How would the Eldermother and her charge fare if Scarhoof had been thrown in prison? The thought swirled in his mind while he dove down sundry alternative outcomes for this scenario.
“May I?”
Chieftain Gaagii Bloodhorn stood in front of this desk, opposite Scarhoof. He pointed at the stand with one hand and held the other out for the shard.
Scarhoof dropped it into the bull’s hands without thinking, instantly regretting the decision.
But the Chieftain caught the shard and casually placed it back on its pedestal with no ill effects.
“How did that not hurt you?”
The Chieftain cocked his mouth to the side and wiggled his eyebrows. “Are you hungry? I bet you are hungry. Come, let’s go get some dinner.” He took a step, then turned back to Scarhoof. “You may want to heal your hand before we leave, so you’re not dripping blood everywhere. The missus would be so upset.”
Scarhoof stared dumbly at his hand, having completely forgotten about the shattered glass. Part of his mind knew he was bleeding, but the pain simply didn’t register. He finally came to his senses and cast Mending Force.
“Come.”
The Chieftain pushed through the crowd and out into the cool evening air. Scarhoof had to move fast to keep up. The imposing General moved with a grace and speed he didn’t expect, especially in the bulky plate armor.
